A Five-Minute Life

“Y-Yeah,” I said. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?”

Thea whirled on me and threw her arms around my neck. For a split second, time stood still, and I had this girl in my arms. I had her warm embrace wrapped around me after years of going without. She let go quickly, leaving me reeling, and went to the easel, where she traced her fingers down the edge of the canvas.

“Holy shit, Jimmy, this is amazing. I haven’t painted in… how long has it been?”

“Two years, Miss Hughes,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “You’re long overdue.”

She gave me another beautiful smile. “Thank you. I think so too.”

As she set up her paints, I shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita beamed and mimed clapping her hands. Alonzo nodded at me with quiet approval. Like the proud parents I never had.

Fuck, don’t get stupid now.

I concentrated on Thea, making sure she was okay and not overwhelmed. Just the opposite, Thea smeared paint on her palette in blotches of color and got to work. No word chains. Not even a pyramid. At least not that I could tell.

For twenty minutes, with Rita and Alonzo at my side, Thea painted. Bright blue swaths across the top of the canvas, dark gray along the bottom with tall, rectangular columns rising from the gray into the blue. Outlines only, so far. Hints of what was to come. Whatever Thea was doing, it was too big for one session.

“Obelisks?” Rita murmured. “Is this Egyptian?”

“Don’t know,” I said.

Rita and Alonzo drifted away from the corner to work with other residents in the rec room. I busied myself straightening up but did a half-assed job, always keeping an eye out for any signs of distress in Thea. None. She was consumed. I doubted she’d have heard a window shattering.

And no reset. Holy shit…

“Rita.” I waved her over. “When was her last reset?”

“Before she came down.”

“That was what, twenty minutes ago? She’d have had three or four by now, right? But she…”

“Painted right through them.”

We shared triumphant glances. Thea painted for another thirty minutes straight and then Rita checked her watch.

“I hate to stop her, but I have to take her back,” Rita said. She stepped forward and touched Thea on the arm. “Miss Hughes?”

Thea froze and blinked. “How long has it been?”

“Two years,” Rita said. “The doctors are working on your case.”

Thea looked at the palette and brush in her hand, the smock over her drab clothes and back at the unfinished painting.

“I did this,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“You did,” Rita said. “It’s beautiful and you can work on it again after a rest.”

Thea beamed and her body relaxed. No seizure.

I slumped back against a wall as relief coursed through my veins. Happiness so potent it felt illegal.

It worked.

“Awesome.” Thea set down her paints, removed the smock. “Not too shabby, right? I mean, it’s a start. Not done yet, obviously. Not at all. But I can come back and finish?”

“Of course,” Rita said. “Are you hungry? Would you like a snack?”